


Wrong Time, Wrong Place

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an FBI agent snaps, Neal is left injured with nowhere to go and only Peter’s voice tethering him to consciousness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Time, Wrong Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kanarek13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/gifts).



> This was written at the meetup for [](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/)**kanarek13** ’s picture prompt below.

Neal focused on the ceiling, on the hatch that led out of the elevator and into the shaft. It would be dark up there, but at least he’d be away from the lights that were glowing so brightly above him. Even when he closed his eyes, he could see them burning red through his eyelids, and he tried to cover his eyes but but his arm was too heavy. He imagined that the floor was magnetized, his wristwatch and cufflinks tethering his limbs to the metal surface below, but he knew it wasn’t true.

Probably. Probably wasn’t true, though as he blinked to bring the square hatch above him into focus he realized that he wasn’t sure what exactly was keeping him on the floor.

_“Neal! Neal, can you hear me?”_

Peter’s voice was coming from somewhere far away, and Neal rolled the back of his head against the floor until he saw his phone sitting next to him. “Peter?” Neal’s voice sounded weak to his own ears, and he blinked again, trying to remember why.

”I’m here. Try to stay awake for me this time, okay?”

Neal rolled his head again to look back up at the ceiling, despite the way the lights burned his eyes.

”Come on, Neal, talk to me.”

“What happened?” Something tickled in Neal’s throat, and he coughed to clear it but that was a terrible mistake. His body exploded into pain, and as the coughs settled down he felt the pain localize in his right side. “What?” he repeated, his voice so rough that he wasn’t sure if Peter would understand.

“You don’t remember what happened?”

“No, I—“ Neal felt a tickle in his throat again and resisted the urge to cough. “Why would I ask if I—“ The need to cough overwhelmed him, and as the pain tore through him he found that he could curl onto his side. Breathing was easier, though he hadn’t realized the difficulty until it was eased, but when he opened he stinging eyes he saw blood on the thin carpet in front of him, splattered blood on the phone. “What—“

“Neal, Neal, hey, just try to breathe. We’re going to get you out of there soon.”

“Tell me what—“ Neal heard the muted bang of a gunshot somewhere outside of the elevator, and with that he remembered.

_He’d been returning from a late lunch, and by the time the elevator passed the first few floors he was the only person in the car. The elevator stopped two floors below the White Collar division, and when the doors opened Neal looked up to see a man with a gun pointed straight at his chest. Neal’s heart raced as he raised his hands and took a step back. All of his instincts told him to run, but he wouldn’t be able to get past the man blocking the door, and he wouldn’t have time to get out through the ceiling hatch, at least not without any gear._

_He opened his mouth to try talking his way out of the situation, but he saw the shooter’s finger tightening on the trigger. He jumped to the side, lunging toward the button to close the door, and felt something punch him in the side just before the doors closed. An alarm went off, the elevator jerked to a stop, and Neal tumbled the rest of the way to the ground as everything went dark around him._

“The shooter,” Neal whispered, then realized that Peter might not be able to hear him. “Who is he? Why—“

“You remember now? That’s good, Neal. Good.”

“ _Who?_ ” Neal needed to know, needed to know which bit of his past had come back to haunt him.

“He was an agent from another division. We don’t know yet what caused him to do this, but it had nothing to do with you.”

Neal heard the _was_ and winced, thinking of the gunshot he’d heard moments ago. “Nothing? But—“

“You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s not your fault. Just hold on, okay?”

Neal remembered that he’d been just below the floor with the White Collar offices, so close. “Can you come get me? I can’t—“

“Everything’s stuck in lockdown mode right now. We have EMTs almost at the door, and security is scrambling to over-ride the lockdown. We’ll have you out of there soon.”

“Oh.” Neal let his eyes close, and he tried to ride the wave of pain coming from his side.

“Neal! Neal, I need you to keep talking to me.”

“Tired.”

“I know. I know, buddy. Tell me where you’re hurt.”

“My side. Think I was shot.”

“Okay. It should be any minute now. I’m right outside of the elevator, and I’ll be inside as soon as the doors open.”

“Soon—“ Neal swallowed hard, desperate to avoid coughing again. “—would be good.”

“It will be. Just hold on.”

Neal swallowed again, and just as another cough ripped through his body he heard the elevator hum and start to rise for just a moment before stopping again. Neal felt the cough turn into a hopeless sob but then there was movement and a feeling of air behind him. There was a hand on his arm tugging him down to lay flat, and Neal opened his eyes to see Peter looking down at him, blocking his view of the hatch in the ceiling, protecting him from the glare of the lights. “Hey,” Neal said.

“Hey yourself.” Peter smiled, and despite the frantic worry in his eyes Neal held onto the thought of that smile as his eyes closed and everything fell away.

~~~

Neal opened his eyes and looked up at the too-bright lights above him, but this time there was no ceiling hatch, no hard metal floor below him. He lifted his hand, and it rose slowly despite the IV trailing from it.

“I would say something about Sleeping Beauty except you don’t look so good.”

Neal turned his head to see Peter standing next to his bed, and he smirked at the comment. “I bet that’s not what the nurses say.”

Peter shook his head, a trace of laughter in his face. “How are you feeling?”

Neal took stock of his body. All of his muscles felt heavy, his brain drowsy, and there was a dull ache in his side that he suspected would hurt much more later on. “Okay, been worse.”

“I’m glad to see you doing better. Really glad.”

Neal nodded. “So what happened? Why did he shoot me?”

“I still don’t know the details but do you remember what I said? That you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Neal nodded. “Yeah. But you weren’t entirely correct, I think.”

Peter tilted his head and looked at Neal sharply. “Why? Did you have some kind of dealings with the shooter?”

“No. no, but even if it was the wrong time I wasn’t in the wrong place.”

Peter’s face softened and he just looked at Neal for a moment before responding. “No?”

“It was the right place.” Neal blinked heavily, feeling sleep pulling him back down into the stiff hospital mattress. “I was in the right place.”

Peter nodded and reached out, his hand heavy and warm on Neal’s wrist. “You were. And you’ll be back there soon so just rest.”

Neal was happy to oblige.


End file.
